The Flashing Knee Of A Jubilant Curb Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Tomorrow all of the holiness will roll away its
Stone;
It will not be too commercial, and young brothers and
Sisters may even dress out in gray suits and petticoats
Underneath the banyans in the rolling
Hills before the bleachers of alligators and crocodiles;
And I can stare up seeing all the hidden
Eggs in the crooks of trees and swings:
See even to the bright beds in the meandering canals,
The colorful eggs there too and membranous
The fish and reptiles are always pullulating in the reef
Of bicycles and the wreathing spikenard,
The cereus like shifting banks of mountains, and a song
Curling down from the lips of a stewardess just as if
It was water from a fountain,
A hydrant blushing and spuming forth on the flashing knee
Of a jubilant curb.